Disclaimer: Anything that's not mine is, well, not mine. Enjoy.

chapter 4: Back in Business

It was quite a picture, Azrael lying there, smiling ever so slightly, looking completely dopey. He opened his eyes.

What he saw made him sit up so fast he almost fell off the side of the sofa he was on. His clothes were so bright they almost blended right into the glimmering white of the room surrounding him. He ran a hand along the sleeve of his crisp, new, white suit, a soft gray shirt underneath.

He'd expected anything but this, to be scolded or reprimanded. Your work is suffering, or, you've been demoted, or-his heart leapt- you're being let go. He was still squinting from the light.

he called, but no answer came. He put a hand to the back of his sore neck and felt a golden string around it. His brow raised. a small scroll hung from it. Azrael looked around once more as if expecting someone to walk in, but nobody came.

Nothing to lose, he shrugged. He unrolled the paper, straining to read the tiny script.

Azrael,

Congrats on making it this far. You have woken up all by yourself, but still have absolutely little or no clue as to where you are, or how you got here. . .

Well well, some nerve we've got, haven't we? Azrael thought aloud.

. . . So, here is my note to help you along. First thing, next to you, you will find a replacement fedora. Your old one was far too gone to be considered worthy of being celestial attire, so we threw it out. Hope it fits nicely. . .

Sure enough, on the end of the lounge was a spanky new white hat. Somehow it looked less grifter-like, though.

. . . Second, you will notice we gave you a haircut. . .

Azrael immediately put a hand to his head in horror. It was shorter, but on the up side it had a softer, tousled feel to it. Not bad at all. He rolled the scroll out a bit more.

. . . so, you will further notice, you no longer look like a cheap car salesman. As I'm quite sure you've been interrupting this letter with your own amusing thoughts along the way, I'm going to ask now that you pay close attention. You are to leave this room, where you should find yourself somewhere remotely familiar. Take a moment to settle in if you need, but above all be careful of your actions. We are watching. You are quite frankly, in a way, being tested in both character and soul. I wish you the best of luck.

It was signed simply with a small drawing of a daisy and a star. His scrutinizing expression suddenly turned to astonishment. He knew who the note was from, at least vaguely, but somehow couldn't bring himself to fully realize what it meant. Azrael slipped the scroll inside his shirt, picked up the hat, hopped off of the sofa, and began walking toward what he thought might be one of the room's walls. It was a minor setback that he couldn't actually find a door.

They never make this easy, do they? he said aggravatedly. After walking around dumbly with outstretched hands for a good three minutes, he surly felt a door edge. As he went to put on the hat, however, he noticed a crucial piece of the puzzle.

His horns were gone. Had he not clapped a hand over his mouth he would have yelled out, in joy or otherwise. With fresh determination, he jammed the hat on and whipped the door open. He came out to a city street, the sky just turning blue. No one seemed to take much notice of the sudden appearance of a smiley white-clad guy, and when Azrael turned around, the door he'd come out of looked like any other.

On the one hand, it seemed he was no longer a demon, which meant no more taking orders from Lucifer, and no more uber-Arizona temperatures. Trouble was, he still wasn't quite sure on what that left him as nor what he was supposed to do left in this city. A punky young man with black hair passed him. Put together with the earlier note, he was reminded of someone. He grimaced at the thought of what a reacquaintance would be like, but a good part of him was still a cynic in need of proof.

He lifted the oversized collar of his knit shirt against a fresh breeze and took in a deep breath. Even the semi-polluted air of the city was an improvement over fire and brimstone. If anything was for sure, it was that a little more optimism was slowly leaking through.

Aw man, have I got to pick one o'those up, he said as a kid flew by on a skateboard. As he looked out towards the rising sun, he flashed a grin.

Azrael, you are back in business.

A/N: The Azrael chs. tend to take a little longer, but hopefully this was worth it. R&R please, and thanks for the reviews so far. :)